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60. New Year © 15 January 2018 |
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You cavort around wearing your woman’s leather rhinestone-rivet-chain quartz-bracelet-wristwatch watch and singing Auld Lang Syne like you mean it like there’s nobody in the world you forgot like friends who love everybody in a great saturnalia of giving a tu-whit tu-whoo and your original NIKE air max women’s running shoes (worth five hundred and forty dollars fifty-eight) that you can’t walk in cos of those tight, ripped, distressed, slim jeans, and the knitted cat-ears faux fox fur vegan fibres beanie. You can take that cup o' kindness and shove it up ya up ya up ya tu-whit tu-whoo along with the I’m-currently-reading tome on the life of Nefertiti which I recall you were speed-reading two years ago. We too have run around the slopes and picked the daisies fine for auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne. But you forgot, an old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind those days of auld lang syne our days of auld lang syne, my dear, our twenty-four years of auld lang syne. I’ll be home if you want me, with the kids, though I don’t like my chances. |